


Broken Toy? Maybe Not.

by thatawesometomate



Series: Football One-Shots [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: FC Barcelona, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatawesometomate/pseuds/thatawesometomate
Summary: Being stuck at home due to an uncooperative knee was hard enough. I didn't need a fever as well but here I am, laying in bed a week after my surgery, with a pretty surprising fever instead of watching the match at the Camp Nou. Fuck my life, man.A Terfinha One-Shot





	Broken Toy? Maybe Not.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So this is my very first one-shot and I hope it's not so bad. Also, English is not my first language so please, tell me if you find any mistakes. Hope you enjoy it!

                Being stuck at home due to an uncooperative knee was hard enough. I didn't need a fever as well but here I am, laying in bed a week after my surgery and with a pretty surprising fever instead of watching the match at the Camp Nou. Fuck my life, man.

                 I haven't left my apartment since I got back from hospital and I'm edgy, at least. I just want to get up and _socialize_ for the first time in days. Sure, I have visitors. But it's not the same. I'm used to the ruckus of two dozen of guys fooling around, not to my grandma and Ney camping in my living room. Don't get me wrong, I love my _avozinha_ and my best friend but I just need more action. You know, a bunch of people around. Maybe just one more person. One more, special person... No! Fuck him. He hasn't visited me after all this time and I don't want him here.

                Not that it matters right now. In this very moment, I just want to cover myself with every single blanket I have and die. Well. Maybe not die, but sleep for sixteen hours straight (haha what a joke) or something. I'm burning up and shaking like crazy under my duvet (and five blankets or so) but I just have to watch the match because I'm an excellent teammate and they don't deserve me. Anyway. It's not that I have anything better to do than drown in self pity and boredom. I'm completely alone for the day. No Ney. No grandma. No one. Hello loneliness, my old friend!

                It's strange not having people around. I even miss the guys teasing me all the time about my little and insignificant crush on certain goalie. Let's be honest. I was being way too obvious, just as Ney said. Jealousy thy name is Neymar Jr.  But c'mon,  how could I stop staring at him? He's fucking gorgeous. He's so tall and blond and his eyes are so damn blue I could drown in them.  And I love spending time with him. He's funny and he has this little wrinkles around his eyes when he laughs. I love playing with him, knowing that he's guarding our backs in the pitch. He's just awesome. But it's not like I'm in love with him. I just admire him a lot.

                 Somehow, I bring myself to turn on the TV fifteen minutes before the tick off as I try not to think about the place I should be right now. I cover my head with the blankets and prepare myself for the rest of the night, which was going to be long as hell. I was drifting to sleep when my phone's ringtone startled me. I swear as I press my phone against my ear without checking who was calling me.

                "Oi?" I groan as I uncover my head. "Who's calling?"

                "Rafa! Where are you?" My heart skips a beat as Marc's deep voice floods my mind. Damn him and his damn hot, German accent. "What's wrong with your voice?"

                " _Puta que pariu,_ Marc!" I exclaim as I sit up on my bed, hurting my knee in the process, what makes me flinch loudly. Yeah, Rafa. Go ahead. Make a fool of yourself in front of Marc. That's your thing. "What the hell are you donig? You shouldn't be calling me. You need to focus on the game, man."

                "Hey! Shut up, man! I'm pretty focused. Don't give me that head in the game bullshit and tell me what's wrong. You said you'd meet us in the changing room."

                "I have a fever and my knee hurts and I can't move." I groan as I cover myself again, resting my dizzy head against the pillow. "I'm just gonna watch the match on the TV."

                "Damn, Rafa. You should have told me!" Marc sounds quite worried. Yeah, pretty asshole, get worried now. "Are you okay?"

                "Do I look okay? Oh. Wait. You can't know because you haven't visited me yet, man." I scoff and I hear him chuckle. "I'm lonely. I need my German bro."

                "Sorry, man. But I thought you didn't want me there. I mean..." I hear his hesitance through the speaker and I almost feel bad for him but my lovesick ass is too hurt. "Ney's been there all the time and I didn't want to disturb you. Also, you didn't ask me to drop by."

                "Of course I'd want you here, Marc." I whisper as I focus on the ceiling above me. Why is it spiraling? Looks pretty cool, though. "Marc, my ceiling's moving."

                "What do you mean?"

                "I'm dizzy. And the ceiling's fucking moving." I mutter as I raise my hand and try to stop the ceiling. "I think I'm going to puke, Marc."

                "Holy crap, Rafa. Who's with you?" Marc sounded pretty worried now.

                "I'm alone, man." I groan as I sit up and look around in order to find a container just in case I have to throw up. "Ney was going somewhere and I told my _avozinha_ to go home and rest. And the rest of the family is out of the city. So I'm pretty much alone until tomorrow morning."

                "Oh shit." Marc sighs and I lay back again, having already failed my mission of finding something to puke in. "Will you be okay?"

                "Don't think so. But don't worry. I'll just sleep through this and I'll be feeling better tomorrow." I smile and try to relax against the mattress. "Shouldn't you be on the pitch already?"

                "Yeah, I should. But I want to keep talking with you." Marc mutters and I can feel my heart skip a beat. Fucking shit. I love him. "I really miss having you around, Rafa."

                "I miss you too, Marquinhos." I sigh as I cover my face with one of my hands.

                Suddenly a new voice came through the speaker, startling me.

                "Marc! Stop talking to your boyfriend and focus on the match, _joder_!" Neymar yells and I just fucking lose it. He called me Marc's 'boyfriend'. I'm going to fucking murder him. "Olá minha princesa!"

                "Ney! I'm going to murder you." I groan and he just fucking laughs at me.

                "You can't even stand up without shedding tears, princess. Anyway, Marc and I have to go now so just don't do anything stupid."

                "That's your job. Piss off and win the damn game. Give me a reason to stop being miserable."

                "You are so fucking dramatic." Neymar sighs and I chuckle. "Anyway, we really have to go."

                "Yeah. Good luck, guys. Be careful!"

                "You too! Now, say goodbye to little Marquinhos before he starts to cry because you have ignored him for a whole minute." Neymar laughs and I blush even harder. "I swear I've felt you blushing, man."

                "Shut up, nerd. Just pass the phone to Marc."

                "Okay, honey. See you tomorrow." And with that, my conversation with Ney ends and he passes the phone to Marc.

                "I have to go." The German boy mutters quite deflated and I pout. I don't want him to stop talking. "Will you be okay?"

                "Hope so. I'll try, at least. C'mon, Marc." I chuckle and sit up again in order to get ready for the match. "Make me proud."

                "Talk to you later, okay?"

                "Okay."

                Just as I stop talking, the call ends and I'm back alone. After a few minutes, the players step on the grass and it doesn't take me long to spot Marc jogging towards the goal. I still feel dizzy and I start falling asleep after some minutes into the game. Somehow, I manage to stay awake until Barça concedes the first goal and after that, the only thing I see before everything goes black is Marc's disappointed frown as the ball passes right next to him and into the goal.

***

                I open my eyes when I feel something warm being pressed against my forehead. The room is quite gloomy and I can't really recognize who's the boy sitting next to me so I just close my eyes again and wrap myself with the covers even more than before.

                "Hey. How are you feeling?" He asks as he places his big hand against my cheek. His strong German accent feels so familiar that it brings me to smile widely under the covers.

                "I feel better now that you're here." I mutter as I sit up to actually look at him. "How did the match go? I fell asleep."

                "We won." Marc shrugs and leans over me to switch the one of the little lights on my nightstand."Have you eaten anything?"

                "Nope. Not since Grandma left this morning." I explain shyly. "Couldn't really stand up, though."

                "You haven't eaten anything all day?!" Marc exclaims as he stands up rapidly. "I'm going to make you something. Don't move."

                I was going to reply to him but he leaves the room, leaving me dumbfounded and completely flustered. He was like a tornado, putting my life upside down without any warning. And here he was, in my apartment at some ungodly hours of the night and cooking  something for me. So fucking domestic I want to cry. So I just bury my head in my pillow and try to suffocate myself. Needless to say that I fail miserably and the German hottie enters a few minutes later with some chicken soup and a bottle of water. He sits next to me and fucking feeds me the soup with that professional poker face. If he sees me blushing hard, he doesn't mention it.

                "So..." He says as he shoves a spoonful of soup into my mouth. "How is it going?"

                "Good." I mutter after swallowing. "How the fuck did you get this ready in so little time, Marc?"

                "I just had to heat it up. Hope it's helping."

                "It sure is, Marc. Thank you. By the way, why are you here?"

                "I was pretty worried and Ney gave me the spare key of your apartment so I could check on you." Marc explains as I finish my soup. He then passes me the bottle of water and one of those pills to fight the fever. "Is that okay? I mean, me being here and all."

                "Of course it is, Marc. We are _friends_. I love having you around, you know. Also, you are always cooking me some tasty things."

                Marc chuckles and bumps his fist against my shoulder in a friendly way. And there they are, those little wrinkles around his eyes and his dimples and the sound of his voice when he laughs and the motherfucking realization that I'm way too deep. Life's just so wonderful.

                "Hey, Rafa. What are you thinking? You look a bit lost."

                "Oh... I... I was... Nothing. Don't mind me."

                "Is something bothering you?"

                "Yeah. No! I mean... Nothing serious. No. I'm cool."

                "You don't look cool."

                "Wow. Thanks, bro."

                "No worries." Marc smiles and I'm a baby all over again. I don't even know how to talk properly. "I've missed you."

                He has his hand pressed against the side of my face again and his thumb is kindly caressing my cheek. His beautiful blue eyes are completely fixed on me and I feel completely mesmerized. Oh boy, Rafa. You're fucking hopeless. Marc bites his lower lip and I can't help but stare at it.

                "Marc, look. I..." I mutter without prying my eyes away from his soft-looking lips.

                "You are so beautiful." Marc blurts out all of a sudden and my jaw just drops. What the actual motherfucking hell?! Holy cow."Oh, shit. I... Fuck."

                Marc's starting to panic and his hand leaves my cheek but before he can stand up and leave, I grab his wrist to prevent him from running away. My levels of willpower decrease to sub-zero levels and I just lose it. Fuck it, man. It's now or never.

                "Come here." I mutter before jerking forward and crashing my lips against Marc's.

                It's a bit awkward at first but soon after, Marc relaxes and leans over me, deepening the kiss as he presses me against the mattress. I smile against his lips and run my hands through his hair almost desperately. After a few seconds, we pull apart and I find myself lost in his eyes once again.

                "You are gorgeous, Marc-André ter Stegen." I whisper and he giggles softly before pressing his forehead against my own.

                "I really hope you don't have the flu." He laughs and I delicately shove him away before grinning widely. Marc frowns. "What? Is something wrong?"

                "It's nothing." I said and lean forward to kiss him again, this time the kiss is a bit more gentle and less rushed. We have all the night for ourselves. There's no rush. We pull apart to catch our breath and I smile when I notice Marc's blushed cheeks. So fucking cute, man. I should probably ask him out or something. Shit, I'm so rusty with all the dating stuff. "Hey, Marc."

                "Yes?"

                "Would you like to... I don't know... Go out for coffee sometime? With me?" I stutter as I look away from his beautiful blue eyes. "Like in a date-date?"

                "Of course I'd like to, Rafa."

                Marc chuckles before kissing the tip of my nose and standing up. I groan when the pressure of his body against mine disappears and I cover my head with one of the blankets once he has left the room without a word. Where the fuck is he? Already abandoning me? He reappears a few seconds with something on his hands. I fucking hate him. He fucking didn't. He fucking didn't bring me chocolate brownies. He rests the plate on my lap and sits next to me with a smile plastered on his face. I want to marry the fuck out of him right now.

                "I fucking love you, Marc-André ter Stegen." I say as I start eating the brownie and moaning loudly every time I take a bit. "Please, Marc. Have some brownie. This is too good. What have I done to deserve you?"

                Marc laughs and kisses me passionately. When we pull apart, he licks his lip and smiles at me.

                "It's quite good actually."

                "Don't you want a bit more?" I ask innocently and he just nods and leans over me again, brushing his lips against mine.

                "How's your fever?" Marc asks all of a sudden, pressing his lips against my forehead. "I think it's a bit better, isn't it?"

                "Yeah. That's your German magic. I'm feeling quite fine right now but maybe another kiss will help, don't you think?"

                Marc rolls his eyes and takes the plate away from me before placing it on the nightstand. He the looks at me with a fond smile and I raise an eyebrow. What is he thinking?

                "Okay. Let's get you ready for bed. You stink." He wrinkles his nose and smirks before carrying me bridal-style to the bathroom without allowing me to protest. "Can you do your stuff without help or do you need me here?"

                I blush violently and shove him away while trying to conceal a smirk.

                "I'm good. You can go. There're some comfy clothes you can use in the wardrobe." I inform as I take off my shirt. Marc looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "If... If you want to stay the night, I mean."

                The German stares at me for a couple of seconds before smiling and leaning over me to peck my lips.

                "Yeah. I want to stay with you." He chuckles and I want to die. He's so cute. "See you in a little while, Rafi."

                I nod and he leaves the bathroom. Once the door closes behind him I allow myself to take care of myself. I shower and brush my teeth rapidly and then wrap the towel around my waist. I look at myself on the mirror and smile widely. Marc-André ter Stegen, one of my best friends, is somewhere around my apartment, wearing my clothes and planning on spending the night with me. And we've been kissing. Kissing! I can't fucking believe it. I've been head over heels for him for months and I'd never thought he would reciprocate my feelings. Fucking shit. I'm screaming internally.

                "What's wrong?" Marc suddenly enters the bathroom, completely pale and he seems frightened. "Why are you screaming?"

                Well. Maybe not that internally.

                "Shit. Sorry, man. I didn't want to scare you but... Could you bring me my pj's? I can't really walk. My knee still hurts."

                "Oh, yeah. Of course." Marc raises an eyebrow skeptically but then he just shakes his head and  leaves the room only to come back a couple of minutes later with my pajama. "Is this one okay?"

                "Yes. Thank you, man." I smile and peck him on the lips before slipping into my pants and getting dressed. "Now, let's go to bed. I'm pretty tired."

                Marc chuckles and helps me to hop towards my bedroom. Once there, we get in bed and switch off the lights. Marc presses himself against me and his soft hair tickles me on the nose. I take a deep breath and swing my arm over his waist.

                "Hey, Marc." I whisper and he shifts to look at me, even though it's too dark to see anything. "Tell me about the match. You looked pretty sad before I fell asleep."

                "Well. I bet we were losing when you freaking passed out. I wasn't focused on the game. I was worried about something else. Ney wasn't quite fine either. We were worried about you."

                "Oh. I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

                "But we won. And now I'm here and I can take care of you." Marc smiles and I hug him tightly. 

                "I'm glad you are here."

                "Yeah, me too."

                I smile and shift on the mattress so my back is pressed against Marc's chest. The German boy immediately swings his arm over my chest and hugs me before kissing my cheek.

                " _Boa noite_ , Rafa." He whispers against my ear, sending goosebumps down my spine.

                " _Gute Nacht, meine Lieber._ " I whisper back and his grip tightens over my chest. I smile and entwine my fingers with his before kissing them. "See you tomorrow."

                Marc doesn't reply and I finally allow myself to close my eyes and focus on the German's soft breathing, which ends up singing me to sleep like some kind of lullaby.

                When I wake up in the early morning, he's still there, snoring softly and drooling on my pillow like some kind of puppy, and my heart skips a beat at the sight because he looks so at peace, so handsome even with crazy bed hair and drool all over his face. Call it love if you want. I chuckle and kiss him on the forehead but it doesn't disturb him at all. I could get used to this. After all, this was the first of many nights together. With that in mind, I lay back in bed and let Marc wrap me in a sleepy hug again. Yeah, getting used to this is not going to be a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Every comment is welcome! See you around!


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